


godspeed

by daisuga



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind AU, M/M, PAY ATTENTION TO THE DATES, Self-induced amnesia, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27740791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisuga/pseuds/daisuga
Summary: A year after Hansol left, and after months of struggling through their long distance relationship, Seungkwan decided to literally erase him from his memory after sending him a short break-up text.He just underestimated how much Hansol affected his life.
Relationships: Boo Seungkwan/Chwe Hansol | Vernon
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	1. love is destructive

**Author's Note:**

> eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au !!! but not rlly !!!! who knows anymore man
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE please take note of the dates! it's important so u know what's going on  
> if you have any questions, comments are always open
> 
> (you get a cookie if you guess where the chapter titles are from)

**i. love is destructive**

"Some things you can never leave behind. They don’t belong to the past. They belong to you."  
\- Rick Yancey, _The 5th Wave_

☆☆☆

**200929**

The bag felt heavy on Seungkwan's lap, and it smelled of Hansol.

When he fought to keep Hansol's things after he left, he only got a few of his belongings: Hansol's perfume that was already halfway empty, a few shirts, a snapback, and Hansol's tiny unruled notebook with his sketches. 

But what filled the bag were _their_ belongings; notes, the stupid plushie Hansol spent a fortune on just to get it from the crane game because Seungkwan wanted it, western movies he would've never watched or known without Hansol guiding him, their small handheld videocam, _his ring_. 

It was in its velvet container inside the bag, even though Seungkwan constantly felt it around his finger; the soundwave etched on the surface, the promise it carried gleaming off of the silver. He was brought out of his stupor when the receptionist called his name, and he stood up.

"Did you bring everything, sir?"

Seungkwan licked his lips nervously, and his left hand instinctively moved to his (bare) right ring finger. He had to take off his Seventeen ring for this. "Yes."

Dr. Yang was young, a bit tall but still shorter than him. He was wearing a pale blue polo underneath his white doctor’s coat, and he was currently fixing the machine that would be working on Seungkwan. It looked like something you saw in sci-fi movies; the seat looked like what he used to sit on whenever the stylist coordinator had to give him hot oil, but the thing that covered the head was connected to a monitor that had a lot of wires, most of them to the computer and the rest to the tray in front of it.

"Put everything on the tray and please take a seat on the leather chair," The doctor instructed, as he typed a few things on the computer.

Seungkwan did as he was told, but he felt the nervousness settle deep within his gut the moment he sat down on the cool leather.

Idly he thought about the break-up text he sent Hansol just earlier this morning, wondering if he already saw it, or if he needed another month before realizing that he no longer had a boyfriend. The thought itself made Seungkwan’s resolve firmer.

The inverted bowl, as he called it, lowered down on his head. Dr. Yang turned and smiled.

"Shall we start?"

☆

**201003**

Kim Yeon-soo prided himself as someone who was rarely miffed. 

Sure, Bang Si-Hyuk managed to almost always get under his skin despite them actually being friends outside of the music business scene, but that's a special case because Si-Hyuk's special talent was getting under people's skin. Kim Yeon-soo was actually a negotiable and easy-going man; of course, if you talked business, he was professional, but when it came to simple things like asking for advice or seeking out company, he's not a stranger to heart-to-heart talks.

This was, however, something only a few Pledis artists knew, so most of them tend to go around hiding secrets from him that will almost always inevitably blow up and cause a mess.

He was looking through the petitions for comebacks and solos when it happened - Seventeen's manager knocked frantically and didn't even wait for his approval to come in, already barging in, sweating and a bit frantic.

Yeon-soo furrowed his eyebrows. "Is everything okay?"

The manager just shook his head and took a deep breath. "There's something going on outside the Practice Room." 

☆

**201002**

_Of course_ , when Hansol actually read a text early, it just _had_ to be something like this. 

He actually read it for the first time yesterday, a day after Seungkwan sent it, and when he saw his name on the screen of his phone he was ecstatic - anything from Seungkwan was always welcomed. 

Seungkwan's ever constant presence in his life after he left always made things bearable. From when they were fifteen until now, Seungkwan was his constant; walking away from him was honestly harder than walking away from Seventeen as a whole, and some days the reassurance that Seungkwan was still with him despite everything was the only thing that kept him going.

Until he opened the message.

In retrospect, he should've seen it coming. Seungkwan had always been the type to not stand it when he was not being paid attention to enough and had to take the backseat. 

Hansol had been doing a pretty shitty job of communicating with him, too, having to travel to Paris and wherever for photoshoots and interviews, and when he was back in New York, he spent his time going over his workload, making songs he never thought he’d have the chance to. 

He should've noticed earlier how phone calls and messages with and to Seungkwan became scarce and short, " _I love you_ " always tacked at the end as some consolation prize instead of a promise.

Everything was a blur from when he read Seungkwan's message to when he was booking the earliest flight to Korea. All he remembered was that his hands were shaking, and something a lot like anger and hurt was swimming in his gut, but he wasn’t angry at Seungkwan. 

Perhaps he was angry at himself. Perhaps he was angry at the distance that had to lodge itself between them. Perhaps he was angry at the words on his screen, at the message he couldn’t seem to delete.

Watching America slowly become smaller from inside the plane, he turned off his phone and opted to catch some sleep.

☆

**201003**

The first thing Kim Yeon-soo noticed when he rushed to the Practice Room's halls was that it was noisy. 

Not noisy in a sense that there were a lot of people talking, but noisy in a sense where two people were yelling, and one voice sounded angry and desperate while the other was scared and confused. The other Seventeen members were standing beside, watching, perplexed and helpless, and their worried gaze intensified as they saw the incoming form of Kim Yeon-soo with their manager in tow.

When his stride brought him closer to the two seemingly wrestling figures, he figured out why the others were so pale - in front of him was Hansol, gripping Seungkwan's arm, face rigid and sharp, and he looked angry but he also looked like he had lost something and was trying to bring it back. He looked like he was hurt beyond belief. 

His grip became tighter and Seungkwan started struggling harder; Yeon-soo decided to intervene before someone got hurt. _Physically hurt, anyway,_ he thought, as he looked at their state.

"What's happening here?" his voice boomed, and Hansol finally let go of Seungkwan, but he didn't look at him. No, his expression just softened in ways Yeon-Soo didn't know it could, and Hansol clenched his hands into fists, teeth gritted and eyes tired.

Seungkwan looked at him like he was a savior.

"I don't know him, _sajangnim_ ," Seungkwan said, voice heavy and confused and maybe a little bit scared. He gestured a bit at Hansol, then to himself, before letting his arms fall down - his lips pressed together, shut, before he continued: "He told me that I broke up with him but I don't know him."

☆

**200929**

**SEPT 29, 12:59**

**FR:** _Kwannie_

 **TO:** _Chwe Hansol_

I'm breaking up with you.

☆☆☆


	2. a phone that never rings

**ii. a phone that never rings**

☆☆☆

_THE SCENE:_ a young man seated in front of a desk in the small clinic.

[ _off-screen_ ] **DR. YANG** : “Please state your name and what you're here for."

 **UNKNOWN YOUNG MAN** : [ _draws a huge breath, before slowly breathing out_ ] "Hello, I'm Boo Seungkwan, 23, and I'm here to erase Chwe Hansol, also known as Vernon, from my memories."

☆

**201003**

Kim Yeon-soo could feel a huge headache materializing already.

He asked Seventeen to go back to practicing after Hansol had gone berserk at Seungkwan's last statement; he became confused too, but he didn’t want Hansol to accidentally hurt Seungkwan, so he sent them back to the room - sans Seungcheol. All the while formulating what statement to send out to the media about Hansol being here, but once the Practice Room was shut, he focused on the impromptu meeting.

He sighed heavily. "Does anyone want to tell me what's happening?"

Seungcheol exchanged looks with his manager and Hansol just had that vacant look on his face. Leaning on the wall, his hands are fiddling with his black jacket, dark hair falling over his eyes.

"Actually," Seungcheol started, and the manager fished out a crisp white envelope, handing it to Yeon-soo. "We received these three days ago, after Seungkwan went home from his check-up."

Hansol was already listening by then, looking at Seungcheol then at the envelope in Yeon-soo's hands.

"What check-up?" 

No one told him about any check-ups, and he wasn’t aware that Seungkwan was hurting. From the looks of it, neither was Hansol, based on his concerned expression, staring hard at the crisp envelope in the Vice President’s hands. 

He pushed himself off the wall, fidgeting, but he stayed silent. Anyone could tell that Hansol was tense, on high alert despite the jetlag - he stormed to Pledis the moment he got off the plane.

"Seungkwan told us he was going to the doctors for a check-up, and left early, but..." Seungcheol trailed off, motioning his hand to the envelope. Hansol audibly inhales, as if bracing himself for the worst.

Carefully, Yeon-soo opened the envelope.

☆

**201004**

Dr. Yang was not just a normal doctor. A renowned neurologist, he was most famous for contributing largely to the research project of ‘neural mapping’ which would essentially map out a person’s mind. Allowing one to burn out specific memories and - for a lack of better words - carve them out before erasing them entirely. 

The revolutionary concept, and the machine that was used in the first successful procedure were both critically acclaimed. The project helped a lot of cases, and occasionally became treatment for phobia and trauma.

To Hansol, it just sounded like bullshit.

"So what?" Hansol spat, bitterly, "I'm a traumatic experience? Something to be afraid of?"

"No," Dr. Yang said slowly, "But you might've caused just as much pain to him."

That hit home. Hansol didn't even know what happened, didn't even know what pushed Seungkwan to do this - to suddenly just decide to break up with him then erase him from his life. As if _he_ was the one who was left behind, as if _he_ was the one who received a chilling break-up text that would haunt him even in his sleep.

It made Hansol angry, irrational, but over everything else, it hurt; Seungkwan was already eccentric and moody from the start, and that was one of the things that attracted Hansol, but now none of the things he found out made it easier, nor did it help make sense of things.

"I was the one left behind,” He bitterly vented, feeling the full force of sleep deprivation. “I don't know what he was trying to do, doing this. If it’s going to leave me this confused and hurt, I might as well just do the same thing."

Dr. Yang's eyes observed Hansol's reaction: eyebrows furrowed further, like he couldn't decide if he should be angry or confused or just plainly, bitterly sad. The young doctor sighed, and stood up, gesturing Hansol to follow him.

"You weren't supposed to know this in the first place," he said, leading them out of his office and into something like a storage room with boxes filling it, different names and dates scribbled on them. They continued walking until Dr. Yang stopped in front of one box. Hansol looked closer and held his breath. "But this isn't a normal case, so I'll make an exception."

Dr. Yang took the box out of the shelf and gave it to Hansol.

"I understand; it always hurts more for the one who was left behind." Hansol could see the familiar pink fleece coat, smoothly and properly folded, sitting quietly just shy off the box's mouth edge. A VHS tape rested on top of it; written on it was the same thing scribbled on the box:

**BOO, Seungkwan - 200929**

"But you might want to see this before coming back to me and demanding what you did."

As an afterthought, Dr. Yang dropped a single business card into the box.

☆

**201003**

"We noticed its effects too," Seungcheol murmured quietly, "He can't remember Hansol being there during our old albums. And Going Seventeen. Every time we mention Hansol he just goes “ _Hansol who_?””

“If anything, I think the memories were intact but had Hansol photoshopped out of them.” The manager added the statement quietly, as if something would break if they talked any louder.

Hansol looked more and more devastated, clenching and unclenching his fists, looking down. “So I...he just...He just forgot _me_? _As a whole_?”

“Yeah,” the manager morosely confirmed, and looked at Hansol with concern; as if staring at a volcano trying to see if it was about to blow up. “We don’t know if it’s just that yet, but. So far, yeah.”

“Okay, _wait_ ,” Kim Yeon-soo finally spoke, shaking his head a bit, trying to wrap all the information around his mind. “First of all, why didn’t anyone tell me about this? Second of all,” he shushed Seungcheol when he looked like he was about to speak, waving his hand loosely in his direction. “Hansol, you couldn’t just barge in here unannounced, you know that. What do you want me to say to the media when they ask? I bet everyone saw you coming here. _Hansol_?”

But Yeon-soo knew that Hansol wasn’t listening anymore; his lips were pressed in a straight line, and he looked like he was actually about to cry. He sighed and thrusted the envelope and its content unto Hansol’s now unclenched hands.

“I’ll handle everything else,” he said, “go and fix whatever you came here for.”

Hansol opened his mouth, before closing it again, only to speak in a quiet, hoarse voice. “Can I talk to Seungkwan?”

“As long as you don’t hurt him and that he wishes to,” Yeon-soo nodded, and was satisfied when Hansol returned the gesture. “ _You two_ , however,” he turned to Seungcheol and the manager, and they both gulped. “You two have some explaining to do.”

☆

Dearest close friends and family,

Boo Seungkwan has had Chwe Hansol erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to him again. Thank you.

**Yang Institute**

1 Gwanak-ro, Gwanak-gu, Seoul, South Korea

☆

**201003**

Seungkwan did not know this man.

It scared him, actually, how this man just barged in the middle of their practice and demanded to talk to him.

Despite being rattled, and despite his fear being so intense (most likely because of the furrowed eyebrows and the angry _everything_ of the man), he went outside with him and ignored the concerned and almost frantic look on everyone’s faces.

 _This man seemed to be familiar,_ was his first thought, and he became more scared of himself than the unknown person when he found that his body wanted to actually touch and hug the man. He shook the thought away and kept his hands to himself.

“Why did you break up with me?” The man’s features were sharp and angled; they mesmerized Seungkwan, but the statement and the amount of pain it was delivered with pulled him out of his sudden adoration harshly. “Why would you even send that text? Did I do something wrong--”

“What?” Seungkwan cut him off, scrunched his face in confusion and felt more confused than ever. “I’m sorry; who are you? I can’t break up with you, I don’t even know you.”

“What the fuck are you playing at?” The man turned angry, face flushed and Seungkwan just knew that he was angrier than when he barged in uninvited in their practice room, but he couldn’t take his attention off of the viscous hurt hidden under all that layer of anger. “Stop joking around, Kwannie! I’m serious, here.”

Seungkwan suddenly felt bad, infuriated that this man whom he didn’t even know was angry and pained, but he can’t do anything. He was familiar, but Seungkwan just _didn’t remember him_. 

The other members trickled out of the room into the hallway because of the entire ruckus just in time to see Seungkwan’s arm grabbed by the man, and it hurt, not because of the firmness, but because of how his heart suddenly ached with desperation to find where the familiarity was coming from.

The man was still speaking, but the heat from their contact burned and took Seungkwan’s attention away.

"It's weird," Seungkwan murmured while looking at the ceiling, lying prone on the floor. The other members' chatters were loud, desperate to forget what happened just a few moments ago, but Chan heard him anyway.

"What's weird?" He asked, before he laid down next to Seungkwan. The elder’s eyes looked glazed over, as if he was in a trance, and it was silent for a while before Seungkwan spoke again. 

"When he touched me," he said, right hand automatically moving to the spot on his arm that Hansol held earlier, "it felt like the void in me was gone."

"Void?"

"Ever since - ever since I woke up last Tuesday, I felt like I misplaced everything and that there was this huge void in me," he kept murmuring, and Chan side-eyed him, nervous, remembering that note they got after Seungkwan got home from his supposed _check-up_. "Like...like things don’t match up? And did you know that I had this notebook where I wrote these sad love songs? And I covered a couple, too."

 _I know,_ Chan thought, because Seungkwan sent it to all of them in their KKT group chat for about a thousand times, but he quietly listened to Seungkwan whispering, voice softly singing, _I swallow my words, down to the bone_.

"But, like, _why_?" Seungkwan said, after a few beats of silence. The other members were still unaware of their conversation, and they didn't mind them. "Why did I do those? _Why was I so sad?_ Sad enough to have covered all these heart wrenching songs? What and who hurt me _that_ badly?"

Chan wanted to say, _the reason was just yelling at you earlier_. Chan wanted to say, _the reason is just outside the room right now._ Chan wanted to say, _are you still sad? Or are you happier now despite being confused?_

Instead, like before, Chan opted to bask in the silence with Seungkwan, _The Story Never Ends_ ringing in their ears, unaware of the man outside who heard everything.

☆

**201006**

"Do you know who I am now?"

They were in the dorm living room. Hansol asked the other members to give them some alone time to try and work the kinks out and they all agreed despite knowing that this is more of a ‘ _starting over’_ than a ‘ _fixing things up’_.

"Yes," Seungkwan replied, now more relaxed despite still being nervous. Hansol, too, looked a little tense, but the moment they made eye contact, they smiled at each other, and it was so ridiculous that they were suddenly cracking up, laughing with no reason. 

Instinctively, Seungkwan scooted a little closer to Hansol. 

"That's good, then," Hansol said, after they sobered up, and something in him throbbed painfully when Seungkwan flashed him a smile again. "But I'm still sorry for suddenly jumping like that on you. I didn't...well..."

Seungkwan's smile faded a little. 

It was an adventure, having Seungcheol and the others explain to him who Hansol was, to Seventeen and to _him_. What Seungkwan had done; the proof still in his bottom drawer, fine Times New Roman print on hard paper in a white envelope, like a reminder. 

He went through denial for hours - him? And Hansol? He didn't even know his name, and now he was being told that they've been lovers all this time, until Seungkwan broke it off and erased him from his memories. By the sixth hour, he sobered up, asked them to tell him what he forgot, all the way from 2012 until now.

It's amazing and a bit sad, how eight years worth of memories, good and bad, can be erased just like that. Everyone can only provide a limited account, though, and in the end, he had to ask Seungcheol for Hansol's number (that his phone actually had in _Blocked Numbers_ all this time) to arrange a meet up with him.

"I'm sorry," Seungkwan automatically said, and Hansol's face mirrored his - crestfallen, a little bit of hopeless, but Hansol also looked a little bit in love. The thought had Seungkwan's blood pounding against his ears. "I..."

Hansol licked his lips, and dared to hold Seungkwan's hand. 

Elated that Seungkwan didn't pull away, his thumb stroked the latter's palm, tracing the lines. "I just...I just don't understand _why_. I don't know what went wrong. You said you were okay, and I admit that I failed to keep the communication between us stable, but you're not that impulsive when it comes to _huge_ things like this, Kwannie."

The nickname made Seungkwan's heart soar, and he moved his other hand to cover Hansol's hand that was holding his own. 

"I don't know either," he said, unsure if he was doing it right, but he just decided to be honest. "I forgot about it too; Dr. Yang burned everything out." 

Hansol winced, and Seungkwan shot him an apologetic look.

"But--" Seungkwan hesitated, before deciding to just say it. "But I'm sure my love for you was there until the end. So if you can wait for me, if you can and want to believe in me, I..." 

He raised both their hands to his lips, and Hansol felt like he was going to have a heart attack from the assault of emotions he was feeling. Seungkwan choked on his breath, clueless why he was crying. "I...I want to..."

In a flash, Hansol hugged him, and Seungkwan immediately buried his face on the crook of his neck. 

The former stroked Seungkwan's back for a while, until his lungs became calm and silent sobs turned null before gently pulling him back, cupping his face, and wiping his wet cheeks with his thumbs. They stared at each other, eyes seemingly trying to burn each other's image. 

For Seungkwan, this was the first time he mapped out Hansol's face, but for Hansol, it could've been the thousandth time he’d done this, but he couldn't complain even if he had to do it a million times more.

"Hi," Hansol finally whispered, "My name is Chwe Vernon Hansol. You can call me Hansol."

"Hi," Seungkwan whispered back. "My name is Boo Seungkwan."

Their foreheads touched, and they just revelled in each other's breath and heat, each beat of their hearts signifying a new start.

☆

[ _off-screen_ ] **DR. YANG** : Why do you want to erase Chwe Hansol?

[ _Seungkwan stays silent, looking at the desk_.]

[ _off-screen_ ] **DR. YANG** : [ _gently prompting_ ] Is it because, perhaps, the love is not there anymore?

[ _Seungkwan takes a deep breath, before looking up and leaning in_ ]

 **Seungkwan:** I…

☆☆☆


	3. you are (not) alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just so you're not confused, this chapter is seungkwan's memory being erased.

**iii. you are (not) alone**

☆☆☆

"No; I'm not erasing him because I don't love him anymore or because he doesn't love me anymore. Love was never the problem."

Seungkwan gave a wistful smile, and he looked like he was in love, but he also looked like he was in pain. “But sometimes it's not enough. The knowledge that you are being loved alone won't curb the loneliness that absence often leaves."

“So you're just lonely?”

"No, it’s not just that. He's amazing. He's good-looking and he's funny and he can charm anyone and everyone. He can easily make a space for himself in your heart if he wants to. And that alone made me afraid. But...there's something else. Lately it's as if everything is being mechanical and loving each other turned into a burden and an obligation instead of something we wanted. I don't even remember the last time we talked continuously for half an hour.” 

Seungkwan blinked blearily, but he looked like he was in a trance. ”He doesn’t even say it, sometimes."

“Doesn’t say what?”

“He doesn’t say _I love you_.” Seungkwan was whispering now, looking down at the desk once again with his fingers fiddling with its edges. 

“I understand, he's busy and when he's not, he's tired. And he’s not a fan of explaining himself, with his belief that saying those words because the meaning dulls the more you use it. But so am I, and sometimes I feel like I'm trying to pull in a boulder ten times larger than me.” His winced, as if talking about it hurts physically. “Talking to your loved one is supposed to make you feel better. Why do I feel like us talking is like an extra project he took up and is now tiring him? I feel like a burden.”

Seungkwan heaved a deep breath. “ I just...I just feel like he forgot me already, anyway, so I just...I want to forget too. Have you ever tried to chase the wind?”

Seungkwan wore a bitter smile, and despite the things he was saying, the obvious affection he had for Hansol won’t disappear, dripping from his voice to the very core of his being.

“It's like that. He's so elusive; He _loves_ me, I know, but - ”

The room started to fade like a vignette filter closing in and Seungkwan looked up, helpless and confused.

“- but I love you,” Seungkwan murmured, and he couldn’t find it in him to look Hansol in the eyes. It was a last resort, and it literally felt like his heartbreak was becoming tangible, right in front of him, in the form of Hansol just looking at him with a far-away look in his eyes. The moment he realized that Hansol won’t respond, _won’t change his mind_ , the feeling of loss just made itself home deep in his gut.

"You know this is the hardest thing for me right now. Walking away from you is harder than walking away from Seventeen."

"Yeah?" His sadness and helplessness were slowly clearing, making way for the bitterness and some softer version of the anger he felt earlier, but the pain still continued to sting just as much. "I bet it's not as hard watching you do it."

"Seungkwan--"

He wouldn't take it. He wasn’t going to take it. He let his mouth form into a thin, straight line for a while, lifting up his face and staring hard at Hansol. The younger man just returned his gaze, but there was no smile anymore; he looked desperate, pleading, soft in ways he only knew how to be, just for Seungkwan. 

It made Seungkwan break his resolve and a new wave of tears came out, his mouth curling up at the edges, but it was shaking and it couldn’t form a smile and everything left a bad taste in his mouth.

"If it's going to make you happy," Seungkwan slowly said, gaze broken and against his will, but fond and loving still. "then just leave, Hansol."

They stared at each other, and Hansol looked like he wanted to say something he didn't know how to; he lifted his hand halfway to Seungkwan's face but it stopped, and Seungkwan never moved. Not even when Hansol dropped his hand and nodded stiffly, averting his eyes before turning around. Not even when the sound of the door closing echoed within the room.

He took a deep breath and the first stabs of dread set in, and everything blacked out.

Seungkwan opened his eyes and realized that he was laying on someone, and they’re both swaying side to side. He could smell Hansol. He peeked a little and saw Hansol’s resting room in a house they secretly share in Jeju, and figured that they were on the hammock that he placed near the window. 

He felt the fingers slowly running through his hair, and he could feel Hansol trying very hard not to wake him up, one leg out the hammock, stretching his foot out and using it to sway them both slowly, lulling him to sleep.

The scenery was slowly fading, but his eyelids felt too heavy to stay open and let him watch, much more wake up and ask. The warmth Hansol was offering at that moment was something he had been craving for, something very much _welcome_ , and he would let it embrace him in a heartbeat no matter the situation.

“I love you,” He heard Hansol whispering into his hair, before his consciousness gave up. “I’ll always be here, always--”

  
  


“-- _always away_! I know you’re busy, Hansol, but is it too much to ask you to at least talk to me for a while? Hello? _Listen_!”

Seungkwan was pacing back and forth, holding his phone tightly against his ear, frantic. His heart was beating too loudly. 

There was a sigh from the other line and when Hansol spoke; it was firm and crackling with static. “What are you even upset about? I advised you already, Seungkwan, and told you that I’m too busy. I told you I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You _never_ do! You _always_ say that but--”

“Let’s just continue this tomorrow, okay? I’m tired and you’re tired and we both have to be up early.”

Red hot anger flashed in Seungkwan’s chest, and he felt like he had been thrown into a burning furnace. “Don’t you _fucking_ dare _, Hansol Vernon Chwe_ \- ”

A sigh. “I’m hanging up now.”

Everything was starting to fade from the edges now, and Seungkwan’s screaming, everything clicking in his mind in the worst memory, at the worst timing. 

“Look at this here; It's falling apart! And I'm erasing you. And _I'm happy_.”

He was crying, angry sobs making their way out of his throat, months of loneliness and neglect catching up. The dial tone spurred another wave of emotions, raw and _real_.

“I can’t believe you did this to me, _I can’t believe_ \--”

“--believe me, there’s nothing going on with Mingyu and I!” Seungkwan stopped walking, frustration reaching its heights, looking at Hansol. They were at an empty playground, and it was dark out. 

They were both wearing layers after layers, winter being too cold, and hoping that it would disguise them despite their rising voices not being muffled by their scarves anymore. “Why won’t you trust me? Why can’t you see that I only love _you_?”

Hansol stiffened, suddenly aware of where they were and the route the conversation was going to. They both decided to have a night stroll at the market after a specifically tiring schedule, and somehow their small conversations led to this. 

“Lower down your voice,” he hissed, “and let’s go back to the dorm and talk about this there.”

“No!” Seungkwan childishly stomped his foot, and he knew he was being irrational, but he couldn’t help it. Not when Hansol was looking at him like _that_. “You have to stop this, Hansol! Why do you always think that I’m having an affair with other people?

“Because you’re always so touchy with them! And I don’t think, I _assume_ ,” Hansol reached the end of his wits, as well, and the words they exchanged hurt enough to make them feel like someone is physically hurting them. “Isn’t that how you make people like you? You kiss and touch them? I don’t even know why I bother with you sometimes, I should’ve left ahead of you in the market earlier.”

Seungkwan opened his mouth to retort in anger, shaking and sucker punched at the hurtful words, but he noticed that the darkness was already eating up their environment. Hansol sucked in a breath, unshed tears in his eyes.

“ _Oh,_ oh god. Thank god it’s being burnt.”

The scene is a husk, now, and they were both calm.

“It’s going, Hansol,” Seungkwan said, staring at Hansol’s fading hands. “All the arguments and disappointment and hurt, it’s all being burnt.”

Hansol finally breathed out. Quiet. 

“I’m glad.”

Seungkwan blinked out his tears, before looking at him.

“Me too.”

Seungkwan laid down on his dorm bed, staring at an article about _Lotto_ , before exiting the browser. He looked at the ceiling, phone held against his ear. The timezone was ruthless, always had been, but for Hansol, he’d stayed up until 3 in the morning.

“Hey, it’s Vernon. I can’t answer the phone right now, so just leave a message--”

It was dark.

The room was dark, but Seungkwan could see Hansol’s face just fine. The other members were out, and they planned something _naughty_ in the living room, but it just resulted in a tickle fight under the blanket.

“Kwannie,” Hansol said, gathering Seungkwan in his arms, hands rubbing his back.

“Yes?”

“I read a book yesterday,” Hansol cheekily uttered, stroking Seungkwan’s hair. Seungkwan closed his eyes and leaned into the touch before pressing his face closer against Hansol’s chest. “And it was a depressing book, but there’s a line that made me remember you.”

“What is it?” Seungkwan pushed Hansol so he was lying on his back, before climbing on him and staring at him with wide eyes. The light from the candles made Hansol look so ethereal, so soft and gentle.

“ _For you, a thousand times over_ ,” Hansol said in English, and he grinned when Seungkwan protested, whining “ _I can’t understaaaand.”_

“The line means that I’ll do anything for you, baby,” Hansol explained, pulling Seungkwan up and peppering his face with butterfly kisses. “Anything for you, no matter how painful, no matter how many times I have to do it.”

Seungkwan looked at him like he was about to cry, and they stared at each other's eyes before Seungkwan leaned down, kissing Hansol on the lips. 

“I love you so much,” he murmured, their lips brushing against each other. “ _I love you so much_.”

Hansol then pulled his head down, licking his lips then his mouth, their hands flying all over each other. In a split moment, they were both naked; Seungkwan found himself pushed onto his back, Hansol’s lips mouthing at and leaving kisses all over his neck, turning him into a moaning mess. 

“I love you too,” Hansol whispered against his collarbones, like a secret. 

Seungkwan gasped when two lubed up fingers entered him, reaching, seated deep in him in a way only Hansol knew how to. The fingers started moving in and out of him, scissoring, stretching him, and Seungkwan couldn’t do anything but moan and tightly wrap his arms around Hansol’s broad shoulders.

“I love you _so much,_ Kwannie. I love you. _Only you_. You’re the only one _,_ the most special, _most beautiful_ \--”

The rare words that stumbled out of Hansol’s mouth made Seungkwan dizzy, colors exploding underneath his eyelids, ribcage hurting from how heavy the feeling of _love_ is.

Groans escaped their mouths when Hansol finally entered Seungkwan, the latter curling up and tightening his legs around Hansol’s waist, quiet moans and tiny puppy noises being let out from the back of his throat, but he’s also crying, and Hansol was kissing his tear-streaked face.

“I’m sorry,” Seungkwan sobbed out, clutching Hansol closer to his body, the hazy pleasure from Hansol’s thrusts making him feel beside himself. “I’m sorry, please, _please_ don’t go away.”

Tears escaped Hansol’s eyes, as well, but he continued kissing Seungkwan, lips salty and regretful, the litany of apologies not stopping. The candles stayed, softly flickering, even after they reached the height of their pleasures - even after the tears dried and the sobs were kissed away.

Seungkwan gripped the fading Hansol tighter, before pleading to his own consciousness once more, only for everything to disappear, as if someone turned off the television.

Seungkwan waited for Hansol outside of the dorms.

He smiled ruefully, knowing what this memory was about. The 3:00 AM skies stretched over him, wind cold as he pulled his jacket tighter. He remembered this scene so well - so close to his heart, that every detail about the cobbled street and the flickering street lamps were still vivid in his head.

_He’s gonna appear in three, two, one -_

As if hearing his cue, the company van slowly stopped in front of him, their manager being the first to come out, a shocked expression on his face. Seungkwan shrugged at the unspoken question, and shifted his attention to the limping Hansol who exited the van.

Hansol saw him and -

This, Seungkwan thought, watching how Hansol crashed into his hug, tight and warm amidst the dull fluorescent lights, was probably where they realized they loved each other.

He closed his eyes and inhaled Hansol’s scent.

  
  


They were in the playground, and Seungkwan was staring at the neon lights from afar. Seoul never slept.

He turned his head, just in time to catch Hansol looking at him, all sorts of flustered and soft. Seungkwan’s heart curled in on itself.

“Why do you always look at me like that?”

He smiled as he softly asked the question, intertwining their hands slowly. Hansol let him; he didn’t answer, but the tender smile - so vulnerable and open, in ways he only ever did for Seungkwan - was all Seungkwan had to see.

“I love you,” Seungkwan murmured, quiet, like a secret bestowed into the night.

“Me too,” Hansol whispered back, eyes shining. “It’s always been you.”

 _Can’t I just keep this one memory?_ Seungkwan thought, tears leaking without his permission. _Just this one._

Seungkwan found his answer when a wave of blackness ate up his vision.

  
  


Seungkwan felt a cold metal ring slowly sliding onto his right pinky finger, stopping just on top of his _Seventeen_ ring. Hansol looked up after admiring the thinner band comfortably resting around said finger, sitting and moving to settle next to Seungkwan on their bed. He intertwined their fingers, palm against palm, and Seungkwan looked at it before resting his head on Hansol’ shoulders.

“What’s this?”

“A promise ring,” Hansol said, kissing his temple before resting his own against it.

“Really? Not an engagement ring? I’m disappointed,” Seungkwan quipped, and quiet laughter racked through their bodies before Seungkwan lifted his left hand to lightly caress the ring’s imprints, a soundwave carved along it. He studied it for a while before whispering a question. “What does it say? What does it mean?”

“I’ll always be with you,” Hansol said, and Seungkwan didn’t know if he meant that that’s what the soundwave says, but he continued to listen. “No matter where you are or how long you’ve been lost, my heart is only yours.”

Hansol caressed Seungkwan’s knuckles with his thumb, and they were silent for a while. Seungkwan closed his eyes tightly before miserably whispering, “I’m sorry.”

“Hey. It’s okay.” Hansol nudged his head against Seungkwan’s, before pressing a kiss against it again. “I’m sorry too.”

“I wish I could stop this,” Seungkwan said, eyes fluttering open, staring at his ring. “I wish I could take it back. I’m _so sorry_. I wish I’d have been more patient, gentler, kinder -- I just…”

Hansol stayed quiet, and Seungkwan just decided to accept the comfort of his hand still pressed against his. After a moment, Hansol tugged Seungkwan off of the bed, and they stood face to face.

“Come on,” Hansol smiled, and Seungkwan felt many things: regret, nostalgia, affection. “We can’t do anything about it, so let’s just run together through all the memories.”

They ran through the distorted memories, laughing, and Seungkwan thought that this was probably what people see before they die. 

They threw confetti at each other inside an empty arena, and rushed through the decayed buildings, opening doors and stepping into Korea’s streets at night, purchasing street food and feeding them to each other. They ran along the cobbled streets of Bukchon, laughing as they pounced at each other, rolling straight into the side of Han River, breathing the cold air and playing with sparklers, tracing their names inside a heart.

They hid under a bus stop, huddled together and sharing warmth as a storm rained down, before running to a convenience store and arriving in Jeju.

The clear skies and salty sea breeze greeted them, like a soft and comforting kiss against their cheeks.

They played around the beach that made Seungkwan’s heart cry out in longing. Hansol was wearing the pink hoodie, soft and perfect, the bluest of blue spreading in soft ocean waves before them.

It felt like Seungkwan was reminiscing instead of forgetting, and him and Hansol kiss each other in the middle of the fucked up version of his memories, all unearthed by him and the brain damage procedure that he thought he needed.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” Seungkwan said, breathless, as the ocean rolls in harder, but the waves don’t come back. Their feet are wet, and Seungkwan takes his last moments with Hansol, memorizing the hazel eyes and the gummy smile. The sea was roaring, the sound so familiar that it hurt.

 _It hurt_.

“I’m always at my happiest when I’m with you.”

A huge wave of water suddenly crashed around them, but instead of their bodies washing away, they simply floated in it, both hands holding each other. Hansol smiled at him, before closing his eyes and resting his forehead on Seungkwan’s.

Seungkwan soberly watched at how Hansol was fading, before closing his eyes, resigned. Before everything disappeared completely, he heard Hansol’s voice echoing across the darkness.

_“My heart is only yours.”_

☆

**200930**

Seungkwan woke up, feeling slightly rested. He reached over to his desk to turn off his blaring alarm, but he stopped, squinting at the empty surface next to his alarm.

He felt like there should be something on it, but he couldn’t remember what.

He stared at it for a long while until Seungcheol hollered from outside his door and yelled at him to turn his alarm off.

Sheepishly yelling an apology back, he shrugged it off, shutting his alarm and standing to stretch, looking forward to starting his day right.

☆☆☆


	4. sincerely yours

**iv. sincerely yours**

☆☆☆

**201004**

He didn’t mean to find it.

He had been rushing to find his favorite hoodie and when he pulled it from the bottom of the pile, everything else tumbled down. He groaned and collected the clothes that all fell—he had to fold them all over again—but stopped short when he saw it.

It was a shiny black matte box, looking pristine and well-kept, just about the size of his palm. Seungkwan gulped, a little nervous; the box made him feel anxious, but at the same time, it made him feel like his body was thrumming in anticipation.

Lately Seungkwan had been feeling like there was a part of him that was missing. That feeling just got amplified ever since Hansol came and sowed chaos in the building, and if Seungkwan had to be honest, he was scared. 

Not of Hansol, but of his own emotions.

He didn’t know how to deal with something like this, and the box he was holding in his hands started to feel heavy no matter how light it actually really was. If this was a horror movie, there would be some ghostly voice from the box whispering his name, what with how much he was drawn in by it. 

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he steeled himself and opened the box, carefully and smoothly, afraid that he'd damage whatever was in it.

His heart thudded almost painfully against his ribcage as he was lifting the cover, and seemingly stopped altogether when he pulled the lid off and saw what’s inside.

The bracelet was as taken care of as the box itself; pristine, almost unused. It’s a simple light brown braided bracelet, with a circular metal and a few more accents, but nothing outlandish. Tensing up, his heart once again pounding too fast for him to keep up, he picked it up using one hand. A delicate thumb ran over its surface and Seungkwan’s eyes slowly widened and he felt a throb in his temple.

And then, a flash.

☆

**190116**

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol called him, before handing a small square package to him. The leader smiled at him a little, and Seungkwan tried to lift his mouth up, but it ended up looking like a grimace. “From _him_.”

Seungkwan gulped a little too loudly at that, stiffening before nodding a little and taking the package gently with shaking hands. It still hurt to think about it, which meant that every second hurt because how could he _not_ think about? The atmosphere everywhere was too somber, too tense, too sad, and Seungkwan himself was just too damn miserable to even try to do anything about it.

“Happy birthday again, Seungkwan,” Seungcheol said, and Seungkwan nodded at him before the leader left the room, taking it as his cue to leave.

Still with his hands shaking as if his nerves had their own little earthquakes, he tore apart the white postage paper decorating it and was greeted with a black matte box. Caressing it for a while, he sniffed and opened the lid, greeted by a simple bracelet.

He stared at it, before smiling ruefully and opening the false bottom of the box, seeing a letter folded and pressed under it. 

He knew Hansol too well.

Fastening the bracelet unto his wrist before putting down the box on his night table, he took the letter and sat down on his bed. His thumbs caressed it first, wondering if now is the right time to read it, to open it - praying to know if it was going to help him or not in his current situation.

His left thumb moved from the paper to his ring on his right hand, gathering the courage he needed, before finally unfolding it.

☆

**201004**

“Seungkwan?”

Jihoon opened the room he shared with Seungkwan, hoping to find him there to ask him if he preferred any specific dishes, since they were going for take out tonight. His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him instead.

He would’ve had a heart attack at the sight of the messy pile of clothes lying around Seungkwan’s feet, but Seungkwan was holding _the_ bracelet, and Jihoon felt a shock. The young man almost looked catatonic, wide eyes and silent tears flowing down his face as he stared down at the bracelet in his hands.

“Seungkwan…?” Jihoon whispered his name, this time, slowly approaching him as you would a frightened animal.

Seungkwan blinked, causing more tears to fall, before slowly raising his head up to look at Jihoon, face scrunched up in the most heartbreaking ways, miserable and anguish in its own silent beauty, and Jihoon felt his own heart twinge, because he just _knew_ , somehow, that this was something that shouldn’t have happened. 

“Who is Hansol?” He whimpered, broken and hurt; his grip on the box and the bracelet tightening, but in a careful way - as if he was afraid that the item along with the memories would suddenly disappear if his hold was too tight or too loose. “ _Who is he?_ What was that? _What’s happening?_ ”

Seungkwan’s voice and facial expression steadily morphed from confused anguish to hysterical, crouching and holding the bracelet close to his chest, head tucked in. 

He was sobbing now, and what was worse was that he both _knows_ and _doesn't know_ why. The rush of emotions was so isolated, so sudden, and it almost hurt physically, something clawing from inside his chest down to the pit of his stomach, and he just cried out that one name that had been bugging him since yesterday.

“Oh, oh no,” Jihoon rushed to Seungkwan’s side, crouching next to him, stiffening in anxiousness and panic, rubbing his back in order to calm him down. “Calm down, Seungkwannie, breathe.”

Seungkwan just tucked himself into a ball, making himself smaller, leaning on Jihoon’s figure and hiccupping and sobbing all at the same time. Jihoon just held him tighter, murmuring comforting words, powerless and pained, but he knew that Seungkwan was hurting way more than he was, and that this must have been terrifying for him.

They stayed like that, Seungkwan constantly cried out Hansol’s name, and Jihoon just thought of all the things that happened, culminating up to this moment.

“Technically, he did bring it upon himself,” Seungcheol said as Jeonghan tucked Seungkwan into bed, who fell asleep after his episode. He didn’t know what to do with the bracelet, so he just carefully placed it back in the box before setting the item on Seungkwan’s nightstand. “He was the one who wanted his memories of Hansol erased, _and_ missed this one thing.”

“I don’t know,” Jeonghan continued, softly stroking Seungkwan’s hair. “It’s pretty hard to just blame him like that. Seungkwan must’ve been pretty hurt and tired. Love is such a feral thing, sometimes. It makes you do things you wish you didn’t do.”

They were silent for a while, just looking at the sleeping vocalist, face still troubled and pained even in his sleep.

“You should’ve seen him earlier,” Jihoon said, quiet and tender, words dropping into whispers, “He was so hysterical, so confused, and he just kept on calling Hansol’s name as if it’s the only thing that made sense to him.”

The sleeping body twitched at the mention of the name.

“Like Hansol’s name made all the pain make sense.”

☆

**201006**

Seungkwan looked down at the bracelet around his wrist and the letter in his hand.

Hansol was just in the living room, waiting for him since he asked him to, telling him that he was just going to get something from the room, that _something_ being the aforementioned objects. He was nervous, second-guessing, but the words he prepared were already at the tip of his tongue.

Some things you just have to do even if you’re not sure of anything: from start to end, fear and hope.

Slowly, with deep breaths, he went in.

☆

_Dearest Kwannie,_

_Happy Birthday, my boo. I know that it’s a sad way to start things, but I want to apologize about not being able to be with you right now. I know we didn’t part on good terms, but I love you, Seungkwan, so so much, and I just wish - hope that you’re reading this letter, that you opened the box. But I trust you, and trust the way you still wore the ring I gave you even after everything that happened._

_Don’t forget that I have loved you above all else in this world, and I love you still. If we ever lose our way I am ready to do everything to bring us back to the start._ My heart is only yours.

_Yours,_

_Chwe Hansol_

☆

**190116**

It hurt, _oh god_ , it hurt, but it also made him feel better, _feel reassured_ , and for a minute it felt as if Hansol would suddenly come into his room and surprise him.

But he didn't, and that sinking feeling in his stomach was still there, the dread and the loneliness - but so was the love and happiness, and it was absurd that all of these were all given to him by Hansol. It was ridiculous, he thought for a moment, how much Hansol could turn him into such a dangerous walking oxy- _moron_.

Hansol was both his deepest sadness and his shallowest happiness.

Carefully placing the letter back underneath the false bottom, he breathed out, looking at his bracelet and his ring for the longest time.

"Are you okay?" Soonyoung later asked, as they both stared at the darkness in their shared room.

Seungkwan had been restless the past few days, not really falling asleep. He managed to be motionless and quiet enough to let Soonyoung get his sleep, and Soonyoung worried for him, especially since they've just begun their comeback, so to speak, and would be busier.

"Yeah," Seungkwan answered, feeling his bracelet and his ring. He surprised himself with how true his answer sounded. How true it really was. "Yeah, I am."

He rolled over, feeling inexplicably complete even just for a second, before closing his eyes and getting real rest for the first time since Hansol left.

☆☆☆


	5. do you love me?

**v. do you love me?**

☆☆☆

**201007**

  
  


Hansol let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when they arrived at their house in Jeju.

It was a humble house, on a beachfront and tucked in a corner, away from prying eyes. The ocean waves crashed against the rocks nearby, and he felt that Seungkwan was observing everything, eyes wide and in awe.

 _Seungkwan_.

The last few days had been the most taxing days Hansol ever had the displeasure of going through. Not for the first time, Hansol felt himself swept up by a tornado of emotions, but this time it was way more painful and left a lasting sting that he couldn’t sleep off.

He turned the key, opening the door for Seungkwan, and Seungkwan smiled at him sweetly as he shuffled inside, backpack and all. Hansol just wanted to hold him, but stopped himself.

“It’s like my dream house,” Seungkwan said, admiring the white walls and the pastel rugs. The succulents they both spent hours lining along the big window facing the ocean were sitting pretty in their spots, dutifully looked after by Seungkwan’s sister this whole time. 

“It was,” Hansol agreed, giving Seungkwan a grin when the man turned around with sparkles in his eyes.

His grip on the box suddenly felt clammy.

☆

**190103**

  
  


He was a coward.

When he announced that he was leaving, he was met with a lot of reactions - but it probably made it worse that all of them were understanding. Even Seungkwan, in his most hurt and volatile state, still looked at him with so much love and understanding that Hansol _had_ to leave.

It scared him, this feeling. 

He had never been in love. The words always felt so foreign on his tongue, his mouth twisting into a certain form in the few times he had said it to anyone.

_I love you._

He didn’t know how to love through words. He told his love to Seungkwan through his glances, his little touches, his caring stares. He never really needed the words, because Seungkwan always understood him. Even when they got together, the ‘ _Me too'_ replied gravelly by him to Seungkwan’s soft ‘ _I love you’_ , Seungkwan understood.

Being understanding didn’t mean being happy.

☆

**201007**

“Mom asked us to come by tomorrow,” Seungkwan said, settling comfortably on the couch. “She asked you if you want some crabs.”

Hansol looked at him, and his heart thudded loudly - Seungkwan was sitting where he always did, his _spot_. If he tried hard enough, he could forget that this was the Seungkwan who forgot about him. 

The scene was so familiar that it hurt.

“Sure,” Hansol smiled, sitting in front of their television set, Seungkwan’s box from the Yang Institute settled next to him. “She always cooked the best meals.”

Seungkwan laughed, agreeing, proud that his mom was recognized. Hansol’s fingers ran along the VHS tape, biting his lip before deciding to test the waters.

“You know,” He started, staring at the _Boo Seungkwan_ written on the tape, glaring and prominent. He didn’t notice Seungkwan quieting down, trying to hear Hansol’s sudden soft voice. “We went here way before, together. Just us. It was the first time I ever went to Jeju, and we spent a whole year planning it. You were so bright, so proud, showing off everything to me. I met Young-ho, and we went to eat at your mom’s place for our last day.”

He didn’t notice his voice wavering, feeling very small. Like an open wound.

He was startled when Seungkwan suddenly sat next to him, hand holding his - unclenching it, and gently holding it, like he was afraid of Hansol disappearing.

Hansol looked up, finally, face to face with Seungkwan; For the first time, he let himself fully open, fear and sorrow on his face. He realized that he was scared of the same thing Seungkwan was - He didn’t want this to disappear, too.

Seungkwan reached up with his other hand, cupping Hansol’s face like how he always did, and that’s all he needed.

For now, that’s all he needed.  
  
  


They watched the tape with rapt attention, and Hansol felt his heart sinking with every word that the Seungkwan on the grainy film was saying - how he looked - Hansol watched as Seungkwan broke himself open, baring the things he always tried to say, but was shrugged off by Hansol.

This whole time, he was so broken up about not knowing why, but Hansol understood, now. Watching Seungkwan, eyes still _so bright_ , eyes still _so in love_ even if he was so rundown and tired, still talking about Hansol in such a way despite talking about how much was lacking, he felt himself spiraling.

 _There were so many signs_ , his mind lamented. What was he so scared of? Who was he so scared of? Hansol couldn’t come up with an answer, and it just felt more painful, scarier. He thought about all those phone calls, where the heaviness and stress of being alone in New York was beating down on him, causing him to snap at the only person who ever held on to him.

_He doesn’t say I love you._

Hansol felt an excuse bubbling up within him, like he was being defensive. _You know it’s hard for me,_ he wanted to say, watching Seungkwan look at the camera. _You know I try._

Seungkwan did know. But the fact that he tried to understand - tried so hard to adjust to meet Hansol’s comfort - just made Hansol deflate, embarrassed and upset with himself.

It reminded him of nights of him ignoring Seungkwan’s calls, in favor of wallowing in self-pity. He thought, back then, that maybe Seungkwan deserved better. Maybe he’d never do anything right for Seungkwan. Maybe his love just wasn’t enough, just won’t ever be enough, because what Seungkwan wanted was -

“I must’ve loved you so much,” Seungkwan from the present said, making Hansol snap out of his thoughts. Seungkwan was smiling a bitter smile at the screen, before looking at Hansol with a more reassuring one. “I think I still do.”

Hansol couldn’t stop the honesty begging him to crack open at the face of a second chance.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Seungkwan asked, arms hugging his legs, pulled up to his chest. He was oddly somber, as if he was still in the process of piecing things together. “I think. Maybe I didn’t want you to be fully gone.”

“You _think_ so?”

“Well,” The older boy looked at the bracelet, comfortably hanging off his wrist. “Just a hunch. As someone who shares the same thought process as him, you know?”

The Seungkwan on the television was confirming the items he brought, showing it off as Dr. Yang prompted him to talk more about them. His eyes glowed with a certain fondness as he talked about them, and it made a deep ache pulse within Hansol.

“Can you tell me what this is from?”

Current Seungkwan shuffled the box in between them, holding up the pink coat. Hansol’s mouth quirked, the memory washed over him as he reached out one hand and tentatively touched the soft fabric.

“This is what I wore to our Jeju Trip,” Hansol said, rummaging through the box and finding what he was looking for. “Ah, here, see? These are the polaroids we took on the beach.”

Seungkwan took the pictures in his hands, grinning down as he observed it. “We looked nice.”

“Yeah, well, we shared clothes the whole time,” Hansol laughed, in spite of himself, “That shirt is mine and you stole it the first day we landed. Then we just never figured out whose clothes are whose in the end.”

“These look so pretty,” Seungkwan sighed, thumb running across his own photo; him in a navy jacket, eyes closed. He looked so happy. 

For a second, there was a pause, before Hansol said, “We could always go back. If you want to. We’re in Jeju, anyway.”

He nervously waited for Seungkwan’s answer, as if it would seal his fate - But Seungkwan shyly grinned at him, giving the cutest “ _Okay_ ,” and somehow all the tension melted away from his body, making him relax. He exhaled slowly, feeling all his thoughts settle by themselves, and he rested his chin on his palm as Seungkwan dug through the box again, this time holding up a different item.

Their own version of reminiscing drowned out the past Seungkwan’s heartache, it turning into a slow and blurred lull, until the tape finally fizzled into its ending. Current Seungkwan laughed at something Hansol recollected, and Hansol couldn’t help his own guffaw at the unguarded happiness on Seungkwan’s face.

He thought, with blood pounding in his head and his heart beating wildly, that he was still _his_ Seungkwan.

  
  
  
  


“What about this one?

Seungkwan pulled out an unfamiliar photo, and for the first time, Hansol had no idea what it was about.

“Let me see,” He asked for it, and Seungkwan passed him the small polaroid, scooting next to him and looking at it from over his shoulder. “I didn’t know about this.”

It was a polaroid of him. He had a flushed face, his gummy grin stretched over it, a finger heart thrown at the camera. Behind him was the friends he made when he went to America, after leaving Seventeen - liquor bottles were on the tables, and Hansol himself looked like he was tipsy, hair disheveled and eyes twinkling.

It was from his birthday earlier that year, he realized.

He didn’t remember the polaroid, nor did he remember giving it to Seungkwan; Sofia must’ve been the one to mail it to him.

“You look happy there,” Seungkwan said, adoring him and leaning in forward, breath tickling the back of Hansol’s ear. “Was it your birthday?”

Hansol made a noise of affirmation, and turned the polaroid around.

A soft gasp came out from Seungkwan’s mouth, and Hansol felt the punch of the tiny words scribbled at the back of the polaroid, shaky and lonely:

_'Do you still love me?'_

☆

**200218**

The club was way too noisy, but it drowned out Hansol’s need for freedom, so he stayed.

His friends were chattering around him as he drank more of whatever was on the table - It was his birthday, and the alcohol thrumming in his veins made him forget all of the things that were holding him back.

Things weren’t so bad, in New York. Sofia asked him why he went back when he could’ve stayed, but Hansol couldn’t tell her the truth; Even after all this time, Seungkwan’s love scared him. It scared him because he knew he could never love Seungkwan as hard as Seungkwan loved Hansol, and it scared him that he selfishly wanted it either way.

 _It was too suffocating to stay,_ Hansol told Sofia. _It’s better this way_.

Even if it meant coming home to an empty condominium. Even if it meant throwing himself in every piece of work he could get his hands on. Even if it meant having to pretend that Seungkwan’s voice over the static of their phones didn’t hurt him.

He thought he had all the time in the world to be able to sort it out; Seungkwan loved him, and he found solace in that.

His phone was ringing, and he excused himself as he answered it, shuffling out into a quiet, narrow hall, near the fire exit.

“Hello?”

“Nonie!” Seungkwan cheered, his happiness and excitement bursting from a million mile away. The loud music from the club vibrated across Hansol’s back as he leaned on the wall, head starting to hurt. “Happy birthday, my Nonie!”

“Thank you, Kwannie,” He managed to wrangle out, laughing a bit as Seungkwan quickly sang a birthday song. “It’s already noon there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan sighed, and Hansol heard some people bustling in the background, before a door closed. “I’m escaping just for a while so I can greet you, though!”

Seungkwan giggled, and Hansol felt guilty - like how he always did, whenever they talked, like this. Whenever Seungkwan gave him everything, Hansol could barely even make time for him. He could taste his bile, stomach feeling the punch of the alcohol.

They stayed quiet for a bit, before Seungkwan hesitantly said, “You can always come back.”

“What do you mean?” Hansol answered, head now pounding. Everything was screaming at him, the liquid courage sinking in and his mind in a twist. 

“Come back here,” Seungkwan said, masking the pleading tone in his voice. They had this conversation a lot, and Hansol always skirted around it, never giving a clear answer. “So we can be together. We can settle in Jeju, or in Seoul, wherever you want.”

“I want to stay here,” Hansol croaked out, even though he knew he didn’t want to. He was just someone running away from things, lonely and afraid, unable to admit things even when he’s drunk. “I belong here.”

“Do you?” The retort was incredulous, betrayed. “Do you really? I don’t think you do, Nonie. You can always just come here and-”

Seungkwan was right and was making sense, but Hansol was not ready to admit it - not ready to accept it - not ready to just be.

Hansol couldn’t stop the words tumbling out of his mouth, feeling the rush of alcohol and confrontation:

“ _I’m happy here._ ”

The answer cut through both of them, piercing and hurtful, spoken in English yet understood by both. Suddenly there was ringing in his ears, and the noise from the club was drowned out in favor of the sudden hyper-awareness towards the sharp intake of breath Seungkwan took from the other line.

The first wave of regret set in, then self-hatred as he heard the shaky sigh.

“Okay,” Seungkwan finally whispered, broken and quiet, and then, “Okay. I love you.”

“Me too.”

Seungkwan waited for a few more seconds, before hanging up the call.

The waves never stopped coming.

☆

**201007**

Hansol was shaking, everything a blur; When he came to, he was clutching Seungkwan like a lifeline, chanting his apologies as he recounted what happened on that day.

Seungkwan made a pained noise - it hurt, knowing that he went through this, even if he didn’t remember. His own hands clung on Hansol’s hoodie, both of them finding comfort in the tiny space they had made for themselves.

Hansol cried out - all his scars open for Seungkwan to pull apart, fully honest and all him. He sniffed, feeling like he was fifteen again, crying into Seungkwan’s shoulders about being homesick. When was the last time he opened up, _like this_?

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Hansol’s voice was hoarse, still hiccuping, still crying, but he didn’t have the heart to deny himself of this. “I don’t want to hurt you again, Seungkwan. I don’t want to do this to you again.”

“But you love me,” Seungkwan said, wiping his face before cupping Hansol’s, heart melting at the raw regret and affection on his face. “You love me, yeah?”

The sound of the waves crashing rang in the distance, and amidst their scattered memories and belongings circling around them, Hansol wanted to let go of his fear. He looked into Seungkwan’s eyes, seeing all the love in it, and he wanted to give it back.

Seungkwan had always been there to catch him, waiting and he was finally ready to jump.

“I do,” Hansol finally cried out, like a child, bare and real, voice small and scared as he admitted: 

“I love you, Seungkwan.”

  
  
  
  
  


“There’s one last thing in the box.”

Hansol hummed, arms loosely wrapped around Seungkwan as they lay on the floor. The outburst he had felt like a thorn plucked out from him. His world suddenly shifted. He was in a haze after, their tears dried and shyly kissed away as they made a nest of blankets on the floor, the contents of the box left on the different spots around them.

He watched Seungkwan twist to reach out for the box, feeling like he was floating; For the first time in years, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, the familiar warmth and scent comforting him and lulling him into a real rest.

“What’s this?”

He sat up as Seungkwan held a velvet container, small enough to fit in his palm. A fond and nostalgic smile spread through Hansol’s lips as Seungkwan opened it, letting out a small _ooh_ at the ring: A thin band with a soundwave carved out of it.

Hansol took the ring from its container, before gingerly taking Seungkwan’s right hand.

“May I?” He looked past his disheveled hair, grinning as he saw the small, shy smile Seungkwan always gave him whenever he was being sappy or overprotective.

He slid on the ring on top of the Seventeen ring, and it reminded Hansol so much of the first time that he slid the ring on Seungkwan that _it hurt_. 

But it hurt in a good way, he realized, the grin not leaving his face as he admired the ring on the pale, dainty finger. His chest felt squeezed, like he just had way too much love in him, and he wondered if this was what Seungkwan felt all this time.

“You are my deepest sadness, my shallowest happiness,” Hansol murmured, looking up and smiling at Seungkwan. “It may be selfish, but I want you to stay. I want to love you better, because I don’t think I can do this with anyone else but you.”

“I don’t remember all these,” Seungkwan gestured at the things littered around them, memories and pictures and experiences, “But I remember I love you. I _know_ I love you. I can feel it in me, like it’s begging to be given.”

Seungkwan pushed Hansol down the blankets, head on his chest, hearing the thudding of his heart. “I want to stay.”

Hansol held him tight, like he was saying _thank you_. Held him like he was saying _I’ll be better_. There would be more moments to come where he needed to say those words, and he had learned that, but right now they were both on the same page.

The silence comforted them, like curtains drawing their pain and regret into a close.

“Hansol?”

“Hm?”

“What does it mean?” Seungkwan asked, lifting his right finger, the colors of the sunset shining on the rings. “The soundwave.”

Back then, Hansol would’ve said the same thing he did.

Back then, he would’ve ran away from the question, from his own feelings, from Seungkwan - but as the end of the day closed in, he found that he had nothing to be scared of, nothing to run away from.

“Here,” Hansol said, pulling out his phone and earphones, putting one earbud in Seungkwan’s ear, while the other he wore on his. “Listen, okay?”

Seungkwan blinked, nodding, and Hansol scrolled through his files, before pressing play on one of his oldest works, from years ago.

  
  


☆

**170605**

In the comfort of Jihoon’s studio, Hansol worked on a song that he was trying to complete, mostly with the help of his _hyung_.

There was only the bridge left, and he couldn’t get it right. He looked at the question Jihoon left on his guideline for the song.

_Who is this for? Think of them._

He listened over the song - it was in an indie folk genre, which surprised Jihoon, because it was so far removed from Hansol’s usual. _This is more like Seungkwan’s music,_ Jihoon observed, and Hansol forced a laugh.

He couldn’t shake off the image of Seungkwan standing in front of the dorms at three in the morning waiting for him. As he sang over the bridge, there came a turmoil of feelings all warring inside of him. The bright eyes belonging to the boy from Jeju dominated his mind, his voice choked up.

_I have never swallowed a butterfly_

_Yet it feels like my stomach is full of them_

_Then I remembered, that the first time I uttered your name_

_One flew into my mouth._

_Perhaps that’s why_

He sat there, letting the song fade away, curling into himself as he quietly confessed to the empty studio, voice small as the foreign sentence rolled off his tongue for the first time.

_“I love you, Seungkwan.”_

☆☆☆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the soundwave ring is the very very first time, ever, that hansol said i love you to seungkwan.
> 
> song that i translated to be hansol's: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIk1ZvFhaGs

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my soulmate, as always, for proofreading.


End file.
